Silver Lining
by fakeituntilyoumakeit
Summary: She intrigues him even though they've barely spoken. Something about her fascinates him, and he's not sure what it is, but he wants it. And Arthur Pendragon always gets what he wants. - Drabble. ArthurPendragon/HermioneGranger Merlin/HP Crossover armione.
1. in which arthur's sees hermione

**So, I'm currently in love with the pairing of Armione, introduced to me by accident. I love it, because I'm not a fan of Arwen (Arthur/Gwen) and I'm not a fan of Ron/Hermione. So – Here we are, at the peak my new obsession, I decided to try my hand at writing it! It's short, I know, but I wasn't intending for it to be long. I'll probably do more in the future, but here's all for now. **

**Thanks so much for reading it!**

**Disclaimer: I only own the parts you don't recognize.**

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Their relationship starts out neutral, just seeing each other in the corridors. She's new, some distant cousin of Merlin's. At least that's what he thought he heard through all the mumbling and stuttering. So she's helping out in the kitchen, and Arthur takes care not to upset the kitchen staff because who knows what they could put in your food as revenge. He has enough to worry about – what with everyone and their dog attacking Camelot – and doesn't want to have to worry about if Hermione is spitting in his soup. He see's her chatting with Gwen, Morgana's pretty maid in the hallway, rushing down the hallway with bags of herbs, and everytime they see eachother, they smile. Arthur's not really sure why he smiles at her, but he does. And keeps doing so.

That's how they keep going, neutral and a little bit warm– until one day when Merlin rouses him at an ungodly hour and tells him he's come down with a 'very bad head cold and fever and sweating and chills and hallucinations and Arthur is tired and grumpy and just shoos him away, desperate to get back to sleep. Unfortunately for him, he misses the part where Merlin explains that for the rest of the day, Hermione will be partly filling in for him as a favour, and not to be such a 'arrogant prat' to her because she was nice.

Not ten minutes later the patter of footsteps, and the rustling of things being straightened. He turns over and beholds the sight in front of him with bewilderment. Hermione, bushy hair held back by a scarf, is kneeling on the floor, picks up his discarded boot, and deposits it safely in its proper place. Suddenly, as she wanders over to the cabinet, and her hand hovers over the handle of his underwear drawer, he springs out of bed – shocking Hermione.

She whirls, hand pressed to her chest, brown eyes wide.

"Oh, uh, Sire," She says, calmly. "I didn't realize you were awake. Can I get you any breakfast?" He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just nods. When she glides out the door, he tries to frantically smooth his hair down, knowing that he probably has a bad case of bed head. He cups a hand over his mouth and breaths into his palm. Just as quickly, he sniffs the air hopefully – checking how bad his morning breath is.

He hears a slight giggle, and turns suddenly. There's Hermione, standing with a large silver tray. He flushes when he wonders how long she's been standing there. Instead of setting it on the table as Merlin does, she places it on his lap. Her thin fingers inadvertedly stroke his thigh and he stiffens, growing flustered. Hermione rips her hand away, face bright red, just as flustered.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll be in the kitchen. Ring if you need me," She mumbles, and scurries away, face still red. Arthur watches her go, entranced.

She's ... interesting. She intrigues him even if he has barely spoken a word to her. Arthur's not sure what it is, but he wants it.

And Arthur get's what he wants.

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**How was it? Horrible? Good? Want to see more Armione? Drop me a review to let me know!**


	2. in which hermione loves peppermint

**So, these are random drabbles, parts of their relationship. They probably won't be in order, just to let you know.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**

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If Hermione was asked what her bed back home smelt like, she'd say ... fabric softener that her mom's used as long as she can remember. She'd say it smells like fruity shampoo and parchment. It smells like the vanilla lotion she used to rub into her hands every night before bed. Sometimes it smelled like coffee, when her parents allowed her to have son. Or popcorn, from her late-night movie sessions.

If she was asked what her bed here smelled like, she'd say, potions sometimes. She slept on the spare cot, and shared a room with Merlin. It was cramped and a little awkward sometimes, but it worked, and both seemed content with the arrangement. It would probably smell like whatever she'd helped cook for dinner, or the flour that inevitably got caught in her hair.

But here, sitting on the very edge of Arthur's bed (nervous another servant – or worse, Merlin, or worse – Morgana, or even worse- Uther!) would catch her in the somewhat inappropriate spot. Merlin was still 'ill' so she was filling in. So here she sat, on Arthur's bed and she couldn't place what it smelled like. It smelled like... a normal bed really. It smelled clean, like all laundry in the castle, with just the smallest hint of sweat. He was watching her as she thought, not saying anything. Blue eyes drinking her in. She smiled a little at him.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asks when her nose twitches. She pauses in her nasal investigation enough to blush.

"Nothing," She says a little too quickly. When Arthur's eyebrows rise, she flushes again. Finally, she manages to stumble out the words. "I was... um, I was thinking ... about what your, erm ... What your bed ... smelled like."

Arthur smiles a little at this odd statement, but finds her ever more adorable. "And what exactly, if I may ask, does it smell like?"

She considers this for a moment. "I'm not really sure; it smells a little like ... dirt. Or maybe grass. But mostly, it doesn't smell like anything."

Arthur blinks. "I see," There's an awkward pause, because neither are quite sure what to say. "Is that a bad thing?" He asks finally, leaning on his elbows.

She shakes her head, brown curls flying around her face. "No! Just odd. Everyone's bed should smell like something."

She smiles suddenly, and reaches into the pocket of her apron. In it is a small oddly shaped bottle, with some sort of nozzle on it. She smiles fondly as she looks down. When she was sent here, it was lucky she had her bag on her. The small bottle of peppermint perfume had been from Ginny, who'd given it to her last Christmas. She keeps it with her, and sprays it on her wrist whenever she gets homesick. It was enchanted never to run out, so she could use as much as she pleased.

She turns, in a sudden move of confidence and Arthur watches her, unsure of her intentions as she leans across his large bed. With three quick spurts, she sprays in a diamond shaped motion. A spritz for the left side of the bed, a spritz for the right side, one for the foot of the bed, and one for the top.

After the deed is done, and she looks at Arthur who is staring at her with a baffled expression, what she had just done suddenly hit her like a brick wall. She'd be less embarrassed if she'd sprayed the sheets, so the perfume would be washed off in a couple days anyways. She'd actually stripped the sheets – just like Merlin told her too – when Arthur had stubbornly laid eagle spread in the middle of his bed, refusing to let her continue, unless she stayed a moment and talked. Thus why she had been on his bed in the first place.

She'd sprayed the bare pillows.

The actual mattress.

The scent of peppermint would linger until use finally wore it out. She flushed a tomato red, and without saying goodbye, or uttering an excuse, she rushed out of the room. Arthur was so bewildered; he dropped down from his elbows, flat on his back. As soon as he did that, a burst of peppermint rushed up to greet him.

And though he'd deny it if asked - he spent a good fifteen minutes repeating the actions until he was pretty sure he was drunk with the scent of peppermint.

The scent of Hermione, he reminded himself.

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**REVIEW PLEASE. Let me know if I should continue?**


	3. in which arthur smells of peppermint

**Here's the third installment, enjoy, it's a little short, but I'm typing on a laptop, in my trailer. I'm camping and it was buzzing around my head like a mosquito – and the mosquito's are the size of a Volkswagen's by the way – so I decided to write it out. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original series'. **

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Hermione is obviously a little embarrassed about the perfume incident, so she ignores Arthur to the brink of rudeness, but not over the edge. The impulsivity of her actions shocked her; she'd never done that before. She was a planner, but something about Arthur distracted her, and made her logic a little fuzzy around the edges.

To top it all off, she was living with Merlin. _Merlin! _She'd been so flustered when she realized who he was, and quickly explained who he was in her time. _"You're the greatest wizard who's ever lived! Where I come from, you're a legend!" _She was pretty sure she'd embarrassed Merlin soundly, because for the rest of the day his face was pink.

Merlin, whose been trying to teach her non-verbal magic, jogs into the room, looking utterly exhausted. She's sitting on the end of her bed, re-braiding her hair, and Merlin sits down next to her, panting. "I can't stay long, I left Arthur's helmet here accidently, I was polishing it last night, you see and-'' He pauses, a brief frown passes over his face. He leans a little into her, and she leans away, uncertain of what he's doing. "Why did you stop wearing that fragrance? It smelled nice." Merlin's question is innocent, but she bulks at the memory.

_She was assigned to bring the food to the dining hall from the kitchen. This would have been her first interaction with Arthur – and it was not by choice. She walked briskly down the hall, carrying a platter of assorted cheeses, and resolves to keep ignoring Arthur, and just keep her eyes on the ground. _

_Naturally, as it always does, her body betrays her mind when she nears Arthur. Her eyes immediately travel to his, and find that he's staring at her as she walks into the hall in a line of other servants. His eyes were a light blue, nothing special about the color; it was what she could read in them. In them she could see his strength, and the man and Great King he would one day be. There was just a pure feeling of ... goodness that swam in those eyes. She tore her eyes away, as the King dismissed the servants with a wave of his hand. Just as she placed the cheese on the table, Morgana's nose wrinkled. _

_The pretty ravenhead was sitting next to Arthur, and leaned closer to Arthur, just as Merlin had done to her earlier. "Arthur ... are you wearing a cream of some sort? Or a fragrance?"_

_Arthur turned to his sort-of-sister and raised an eyebrow. "No, why?"_

_She shook her head, as if to clear it. Uther stared at her curiously. "I could have sworn you smelt of peppermint for a second. You smell of the Christmas day reeves." _

_To Arthur's credit, he kept his eyes on Morgana, even though they desperately wanted to dart to Hermione, to see what her reaction was. Horror washed over Hermione, and she scampered after the other servant. _

_Arthur smelled like peppermint. _

_Because she had sprayed his bed. _

_The bed he spent every night sleeping in. _

_Dear lord. _

_Dear Merlin, she thought sarcastically. _

Realizing Merlin was still staring at her and waiting for an answer, she shrugged. "I ran out."

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**Good? Okay? Trash? Let me know!**


	4. in which merlin is the same old merlin

**I know, I know, this isn't a Hermione/Arthur interaction, but I needed to throw in some Merlin/Hermione friendship. Please don't kill me! **

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Hermione, Merlin and Gaius were sitting at the wobbly dining table in their chambers, all thinking about their day, and what they'd have to do tomorrow. Merlin had to do whatever Arthur'd told him to do, and the Prince seemed in a rather foul mood these days, so it was sure to be a long list. Gaius had a round of sleeping drafts, and hangover potions to make. Hermione was making the dough that would be used for the celebration of Morgana's birthday.

Merlin had apparently had enough of the silence, and started babbling, as per usual. He'd been almost caught having a book of magic, and had panicked abruptly when Arthur returned thinking that the prince would see the book sitting so plainly on the table. So he'd vanished his magic book, then once he'd ushered Arthur out of the room under the excuse that Hermione was looking for him (which made him move faster than he usually did) He then went to pick up the book, and realized that the book had vanished. Which in turn made him even more panicked, because how in the world was he supposed to find an invisible book? He was all the way under Arthur's bed, with only the tips of his toes peeking out, when someone grabbed hold of his boot and pulled him from under the bed. It was Arthur who did not look amused.

"Merlin, what are you doing?"

"There's ... rats, sire ... large rats ... massive even, and I was looking for them, which was why I was under your bed and-'' Hermione and Gaius both chuckled at Merlin's antics.

When he'd finished telling the tale, Hermione looked at him in amusement. So that was why Arthur'd run up to her with a hopeful smile when she was delivering lunch to Sir Leon. He'd started talking about being glad they were talkig again, and he was relieved she had wanted to speak to him. Poor Arthur, no wonder he looked so angry when he left, after realizing that Hermione had in no way been looking for him. He wasn't angry at me, she realized, he was angry at Merlin.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend and asked, "Merlin, Arthur obviously doesn't believe your excuses," Merlin nodded, a little reluctantly. "So what do you suppose he thinks you're doing most of the time?"

For this, Merlin had no answer.

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**I know, there was no Armione, but the mention of an Armione interaction works. Right? Well, please review regardless, I'd love to hear from you!**


	5. in which hermione hugs arthur

**Sorry I've been gone for so long! Just being back to school, I'd start something, or mean too, and get distracted. So, here we are, back in black! Or ... pink furry pajama's. And holey socks. Anyways, I'm BACK! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Arthur, or Merlin. If I did ... Gwen would end up alone .. or never would have come out of being banished. Lol, I don't own Harry Potter either, as you've probably guessed.**

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Merlin and Arthur are gone on a hunt, at least, that's what it was supposed to be. They've been gone three days now, and no sign. Uther'd sent out search parties; but nothing came back. Hermione was manic with anxiety, flitting around the castle, never settling on one thing for too long. Everyone assumed she was anxious because Merlin was her 'cousin'.

She was worried about Merlin, but she was more worried for Arthur than she cared to admit. She cared deeper for Arthur than she cared to admit. She wasn't supposed to care about him, not in that way! Well, really, she wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, but that was besides the point.

Anyway, she reminded herself, Arthur. Arthur. Arthur. Arthurarthurarthur. He was smart, and well intentioned and so ... different. He reminded her of Harry sometimes, with the way he always wanted to be a hero. The way he charged into battle when someone was hurt, uncaring of himself and his well-being.

So when the trumpets finally sounded, announcing the return of the Prince, Hermione dropped the package of flour she'd been hauling around the kitchen, hearing it slap on the floor. She ran through the corridor, many servant's following, glad their Prince was safe. She burst through the door, and saw she was one of the first to arrive; first even before the King. She ran down the steps, towards the two men who had obviously walked on foot for some time. She flew down the steps, stumbling a couple times and threw herself at them, catching one in each arm. They almost tumbled, but Arthur quickly balanced the group.

Hermione ever so subtley turned her face towards Arthur, breathing in his scent. "I'm glad your back." Arthur's arm - the one used to regain balance - tightened around her.

"Me too," he whispered into her hair.


	6. in which hermione has competition

**here we are! I wrote this on a whim, deciding we needed a mini love triangle happening.**

**Thanks so much for reading and all the favourites! **

**Disclaimer: I own neither series.**

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Hermione watched from a window in one of the guest bedrooms as the gleam of a large party covered in silver entered the courtyard. At the head, was King Bayard of Mercier, and a figure clad in light tones of gold and red. Royalty, she guessed, because no peasant had the money for something dyed gold. She looked down at her own powder blue gown, one of the few bought from the market. They were tight, and itchy, but she'd gotten used of it.

As she watched Arthur greet the Princess, she felt a twinge of something, sadness she realized. Not jealousy, she realized. Sadness. It occured to her that nothing could ever happen between her and Arthur. But seeing his him with someone who _could_ have that future hurt her in a way that she'd never felt before. It reminded her of how she'd felt seeing Ron and Lavender, after the kiss they'd shared.

Later that day, she'd found out the gossip from Cook (whose name was actually Gerdie) that the woman was the youngest daughter of King Bayard, and a beauty. She'd recently come of age, just seventeen_ (I'm not sure the coming-of-age-real-age, so we'll go with that) _and Uther was interested in a marriage-contract between her and Arthur. Unfortunately, in Mercier culture, it dictated that the bride must agree before any sorts of agreement could be made. The best part? The bride's decision couldn't be swayed, a royal scribe jotted down her decision, and nothing could be done if the answer was no. Nothing.

Hermione thought this was one small step for one woman, one large step for woman-kind.

Anyways, while peeling potatoe's for the welcome feast, Hermione'd took the oppurtunity to learn about this Princess. Her name was Melora, just come of age, and deisred by many men. However, she was apparently very high maintenance, and rumoured to be quite nasty, so even when she agreed to a marriage, the groom ran for cover.

So, now Hermione was sitting on her bed, cross legged and trying not to cry. Melora was gorgeous - long blonde hair, deep blue eyes, perfect features, and a bust that was literally bursting from her corset. It wasn`t even her looks that bothered her.

Hermione had never been vain, she realized she wasn`t ugly, but she wasn`t as beautiful as girls like Ginny or Parvarti. But the way Arthur looked at Melora, her throat tightened even thinking about it. He looked at her like he`d just seen the light, like he`d discovered the most beautiful creature in existance.

It`s not worth it, she repeated in her head. It`s not. Stop thinking about it.


	7. in which hermione just opens the door

**Here we are! Sorry the last chapter was bit boring, I just needed to introduce Melora, so she didn`t appear out of thin air. Anyways, I`ll stop babbling, and just let you start reading already. GO BACK. THIS IS THE THIRD CHAPTER I ADDED TODAY. I JUST WANTED TO MAKE UP FOR BEING GONE SO LONG. GO BACK. I REPEAT. GO BACK. **

**Disclaimer: I don`t own either series. **

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Hermione tip-toed into Arthur`s room, cursing Merlin to the bowel`s of hell. The servant had asked Hermione to cover him once again and Hermione was beginning to see a pattern. She could have used this time to practice her wandless magic, but instead, here she was; picking up the silver Arthur`d eaten dinner off of.

She was glad Arthur was gone, not ready to face him after witnessing him making cow eyes at Melora through dinner last night. Merlin had assured her they`d barely spoken, but it did nothing to console her.

Just as she`d set the goblet on top of the single plate, and lifted it up, the door creaked open. She balanced the plate on her hip as she whirled around to stare at Arthur, who seemed to have just come from something that involved sweating. Blond hair pushed off his face, face glistening, and he still looked bloody gorgeous.

He stared at her, and when he oppened his mouth and said "Oh, Hermine, I .. uh.." she suddenly realized where she was and who she was talking to. A picture of how he`d looked at Melora last night swam in front of her eyes, and her expression hardened.

"Sorry if I intruded, my lord," She walked briskly towards the door with her chin high, trying to channel the no-nonsense behaviour and dignity of Professor McGonagall.

Arthur paused beside her, and reached out a hand as if to stop her, but thought better of it and let it drop down to his side. "If this is about-"but Hermione was already opening the door.

Opening the door to face a very surprised looking Melora, long pale hair shining in the morning sunlight, eyes predotory as they examined Hermione. Hermione had suddenly wished she had run a brush through her hair a couple more times before braiding it that morning, looking at Melora`s silky straight hair.

The aforementioned blonde raised a curious eyebrow. "And who are you exactly?" she inquired. "Someone of importance? someone worth talking to?" She queried, then ran her eyes over Hermione's pale cream dress. "Or are you one of the help?" She stressed 'help' as if Hermione had a mental illness, and Melora felt sympathy for her.

Hermione held back a smile, keeping her face in a nuetral mask. She can see Arthur's indignant expression from the corner of her eyes, but she also knows that Arthur's watching her, waiting to see what her reaction will be.

"I'm just the woman who opens the door," She said curtly, brushing past Melora after mustering a slight curtsy and out the door, not bothering to look back and see the expression of amusement on Arthur's face.

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**GO BACK! THIS IS THE THIRD CHAPTER I ADDED! I REPEAT. GO BACK, THIS IS THE THIRD CHAPTER I ADDED TODAY!**


	8. in which hermione's competition vamooses

**this chapter is dedicated to Nothernlights25 and the mysterious Guest, who WERE THE ONLY ONES TO REVIEW THE LAST CHAPTERS. Thanks so much you guys! It meant a lot. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original series.**

Watching Melora leave might have been one of the greatest joys in Hermione's life. A feeling of triumph shot through her as the pale head of hair dissapeared into the forrest. Melora had stayed no less than a week, driving Hermione's bonkers. She'd been assigned to tend to Melora's needs by Uther himself, and it'd been torture.

She was currently in the library, reading a book about ancient (or modern, she mused) medicinal plant life. She was glad Melora was leaving, more so because she was taking her observation's with her.

Hermione knew that being casual or even the slightest bit suttle was not one of Arthur's strengths, but apparently, their not-very-casual glances had been noticed. Thank god Melora had had the decency not to blurt it out in front of the King.

Hermione shut the book with a slam, stomach twisting in a semi-pleasant way when she thought of the exact wording Melora had used to officially decline Arthur's proposal.

_"I don't like unwrapping someone else's gifts."_

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**there you have it folks, the end of a semi-love-triangle. Poor Hermione, she just can't escape them. Soo... anyone think Arthur needs a good dose of jealousy?**


	9. in which hermione really likes blue

**Hey! I realize it's been too long, but hey, it's the Arthur/Hermione interactions that count right? **

**Right?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the two series. Only the plot.**

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Hermione had never really noticed what Ron and Harry wore. Mostly because the majority of her time was spent keeping Harry alive and arguing with Ron. Ron mostly wore knit sweater hand-made by Mrs. Weasley and well worn in pants. Harry wore oversized sweatpants and cheap trainers given to him by his horrible Aunt and Uncle.

So it came as a shock to her that she found herself paying attention to Arthur's clothes of all things.

_(When she wasn't too busy focusing on his perfect pink lips or his pretty blue eyes or his broad shoulders)_

Arthur obviously loved the color red, because a majority of his shirts were red. She knew this from personal experience because on her down time (when she wasn't in a dream land revolving around a certain dashing blonde Prince)

But honestly?

She preferred blue. He had this dark blue shirt and every time he wore it ... well, it took her breath away. It hung off his muscled frame just right, glimpsing at the tanned expanse of muscled chest beneath the shirt. It set off his gold skin, making him seem sharper in image.

And his eyes, in that shirt, you could spot those peepers from fifty feet away.

So it was happy coincidence, in Hermione's totally innocent mind, when Arthur's blue shirt was always the first shirt in rotation to be washed, and always pressed cleanly and folded neatly in his cupboard to wear frequently.

(it's not like she'd specifically told Moxie and Molly, the laundresses, that this was Prince Arthur's favourite shirt, and he insisted on wearing it every week or anything. She definitely didn't persuade Christopher, the delivery boy, to place it neatly on top every week so it would be the first one Merlin grabbed.)

Hermione would never do that.

But oh boy, she did love that blue shirt.

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**Bad? Good? SEEEEXXXXXY? Let me know.**


	10. in which they bond

**her we are, the tenth chapter of Armione goodness! I am blown away by how many people have favourited and followed this story! If only all those people reviewed! REVIEW! And if you haven't reviewed the previous chapters, then GO BACK AND REVIEW! Honestly. Review's motivate me to update faster. Here's some armione, and a little info about Hermione's past.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the Armione goodness. AND EVERYONE KNOWS MERLIN AND HIS ADORABLE EARS BELONG TO ME. **

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It's one day when she's supposed to be chopping vegetables with Flora and Lena , and she knows Cook'll be mad and probably wack her on the hand with a spoon. But she'd take a red hand anyday to spend even a little time with Arthur alone, without Merlin around. She's pretty sure Arthur is supposed to be training with the Knights, but had Merlin cover for him. She makes a note to herself to thank Merlin later.

Maybe she'd made him some water cress soup. He nearly melted everytime she made it.

So they're greenspace by the wall that overlooks the lower town, leaning against the rough, warm stone. The sun shines down on them, and Arthur admire's Hermione. She may not be a stunning beauty, like Morgana; but she was beautiful. Curly brown hair was smooth at the part but fringed at the ends, perky nose scrunching when she laughed. Her warm chocolate eyes wandered around the sky happily, following the clouds and pointing out the occasional bird that flies overhead.

"Hermione?" he asks, twisting a weed in his fingers, pulling it from the grass.

She looks at him, waiting for the answer.

He looks at her chest, just above the neckline of the cream gown she's wearing the sees the tail of a thin string. When he looks back up, she's blushing slightly and he realizes how that may have looked. With red cheeks, he hurries to explain.

"What's that you wear around your neck? On the frayed string?" He asks, eyes on the string again.

Hermione seemed surprised at his question, and looked down at the string as if just remembering its presence. She reached thin fingers and pulled it out, dangling it between them.

On the end of the ring was a small, circular gold ring, with three small gems that glittered in the sunlight. Each gem was odd, a soft pink color, like the sky before sunset. Arthur stared at it curiously, it certainly wasn't the type of thing a peasant would own, it looked like some of the finer jewels possessed by Morgana. Hermione didn't seem like the type to steal, but how else could she get something like this? It would have taken years to save up a peasants extra earnings to buy that ring.

"Where did you get it?" He asked, and he must have sounded a bit suspicious. His tone immeadiately made Hermione feel defensive.

"From my parents," She said snappishly.

Arthur immeadiately felt ashamed, "Sorry. I hadn't meant to sound accusatory."

Hermione seemed to relax a little bit, and fingered the ring with the tips of her fingers. "It was my grandmothers. My grandfather had it made especially for her, saved up for close to ten years to afford it."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "This is the first time you've spoken of your parents. What were they like?"

"They're dead." She said shortly, face going blank. She didnt feel like explaining things that Arthur couldn't know about. But apparently Arthur really wanted to know, because he wouldn't let it go.

"How did they die?" Arthur asked, leaning towards her a little bit.

Searching for an excuse that was plausible in this time, she blurted out the first answer she could think of, "Disease. They contracted an illness and died. I got it to, but I pulled through. We could only afford the medicine for one person, and my parents chose to save me."

"I'm sorry," Arthur seemed genuinely sad for her poor, dead parents and she instantly felt guilty about lying to him. But he seemed conflicted, as if hesitating with the words he wanted to say. She waited silently, knowing he needed time to sort it out.

"When I was born, my mother, she .. she died," He murmured finally.

She nodded, already knowing this. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. She died giving birth to me." He sounded so sad, that Hermione instinctively leaned into his shoulder and leaned her head on his shoulder. She did the same thing with Ron and Harry when either one of them was upset, but with Arthur it felt more ... intimate. "Sometimes I wonder what she was like. I wonder if the things I didn't get from my father, I got from her."

"What do you mean?"

"I love spring berries, but my father's never really enjoyed them. I often wonder if she liked them as much as I did?" He leaned his cheek on the top of her cushion of brown curls. "There's so much I don't know about her. So much that I never got the chance to know, things I can't ask my father about. Did she talk in her sleep? Did she like flowers? Did she sing in the mornings? Did she slant her 't's but not any other letters while scrawling cursive like me?"

"Can't you ask your father?" Hermione asked, settling into the side of Arthur's body.

"Nobody ever, ever, mentions my mother in front of him. He loses it."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he whispered into her hair, ghosting his lips over the top of her head, not yet brave enough to dare it yet.

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**feedback? love? hate? not good enough? **


	11. in which hermione misses home

**Here's the next chapter! Chapter 11! Thanks to everyone whose favourited/followed/reviewed/read. AND ALL HAIL ARMIONE. **

**Disclaimer: Own nothing but Merlin on DVD.**

One thing Hermione misses more than anything - except for toilets and indoor plumbing - is music. She never really listened to music back home, but now that she couldn't access it anymore, she missed it. She missed, especially, the old eighties disco tunes her mother used to play in the mornings while cooking breakfast. So she hummed them to herself whenever she could, and Arthur had apparently noticed.

She was in her usual Arthur-induced euphoria, so she really couldn't be blamed for her actions. She'd forgotten where she was and who she was with.

_and began ... to sing ... cue the horror theme music and the dramatic lightning strike. _

"we're not gonna sit in silence, oh we're not gonna lived with fear ... oooooo-OOOOHHH -ooooooh, woaaaahhhhhh - WOOOAAAH- woaaaaah." The lyrics for The Voice by John Farnham burst out from her mouth, and she immediately flushed and snapped her mouth shut so fast her teeth clinked together.

Arthur looked amused, so a spontaneous act, it wasn't that bad. Certainly not anything near a songbirds quality - her voice was scratchy and a little out of tune - but something in his stomach warmed at the sound of her voice.

Something he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with.

**Review please and thank you! **

**Oh! And this chapter is dedicated to LeonaMasha and NorthernLight25 for reviewing. **


	12. in which they teach eachother

**Here we go, for all you dying for some action.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'nothin foo'**

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Hermione was, for once in her life, glad for the painfully embarassing Waltz lessons Professor McGonagall had torutured them with before the Yule Ball. Here, the waltz was one of the only dances danced at balls and other fancy events. Other than some weird dance with scarves. She'd learned of the upcoming visit of Lord Finnick and his two lovely daughters, Belle and Erasabeth. Moxie and Molly told her that they were right snots, and she hoped she didn't get assigned to work for them while they were here.

Anyways, dancing.

When Hermione walked into Arthur's chambers, hearing the clumsy shuffle of feet, she assumed she'd find Merlin tripping about the room. Instead, Arthur was dancing clumsily in circles around himself, arms holding his invisible partner. While trying to do an graceful turn, the two of his left boot caught the heel of his right boot and he stumbled, flinging out his arms to catch his balance and making a disgruntled facial expression.

She coul have just turned around and walked out but displaying an unusal lack of courtesy, she stayed and called out softly to the prince. "Nice foot work."

He spun, alarmed, hand automatically reaching for the sword that usually hung at his hip. His eyes widened for a second, taking in that it was Hermione standing there and he seemed to relax a little, even though he still looked very startled. "Oh, Hermione, I was just, uh, practicing. For the party tomorrow evening."

"What dance is it your practicing exactly? The one footed jiggle?" She giggled, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the hearty laughter brewing in her chest.

Arthur scowled and shifted onto his other foot. "No. I was not," he said defensively.

"Was that the waltz?" She took his silence as a comfimation, and smiled when he nodded finally. "Woud you like me to teach you?"

"I highly doubt you know the waltz," as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced, wondering if Hermione would take it as an insult. But why would a peasant have learned the waltz? It was dance of royalty and nobleman.

But lukckily for Arthur, Hermione seemed in an abrnormally forgiving mood. "Humour me," and with that, she slipped inside Arthur's arms, placing them in the correct places before he could protest.

"Alright. Lets see what you can do," Arthur mused, and began to step in time to the music in his head. Unfortunately, it looked like Hermione actually did know what she was doing. While her steps were graceful and timed his were clopping and always just a little too fast. After the fifth time Arthur stomped on her toe, she finally spoke up.

"Okay. Stop. You need to relax. Don't think about what your doing, just do it," she suggested.

"I can't stop thinking I'm not Merlin," he replied, smug at getting a barb at his manservant when he wasn't even present.

Suddenly, she had a flashback to teaching Ronald how to dance for his brother's wedding, speaking in a silly accent to get him to laugh, to relax so her toes weren't bruised by the end of their lesson.

"I'm going to try something okay? I just need you to relax," She began, and then stepped in time to a humming beat. She began in a copycat accident of her past crush, Viktor Krum. "Ready? Von, Two, Tree, Vour, Feeve, Siss, Evan, Hate, Neen" Arthur's shoulders heaved as he laughed at her accent. She stepped in time with him, and they were finally in sync. The moved gracefully, moving as just one body.

"See! Your doing it," Hermione grinned, and Arthur grinned back. Suddenly, in the heat of the moment, in the excitement that came with finally honing his dancing skills, he spun on the spot, arms taking Hermione with him. They spun, Hermione's laughter bouncing off the stone walls. She looked so carefree, so ... happy. Hair whirling around behind them, frizzy curls bouncing with the beat of their dance, brown eyes wide, crinkled in laughter with her face twisted in a grin.

So, he couldn't exactly be blamed when he missed a beat. Hermione, who hadn't missed the beat, slammed into his chest non-too-gently, and blushed.

Their faces were so _close_, Arthur's breath fanned over her face, she could see every shade of blue in his gorgeous eyes, ever little mark on his face. His lips parted a bit, and Hermione leaned forwards a bit, Arthur mirroring her actions. Hermione's eyes slid closed of their own accord, and she waited, her heart beating wildly.

Suddenly, Arthur's arms ripped away from around her so fast, and the breath on her face had suddenly disappeared. Her eyes flew open, and she was so bewildered that it took her a second to turn around, and she only glimpsed the back of his blonde head and the tail of his red tunic before his door slammed shut.

Tears flooded to her eyes, and she scolded herself. What did you expect to happen? She asked herself. He's Prince Arthur. Soon to be King Arthur, the once and future king. And your a servant. A servant who just happens to be a fugitive witch from the future. It wasn't so much that she was extremely hurt - she was, but she understood that he was waaaaaaay out of her league - it was more embarassment that caused the tears to roll down her cheeks.

Sniffling pathetically, she looked down and swallowed the large, dry lump in her throat.

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**Thanks for reading! AND HAPPY ALMOST HALLOWEEEN! THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR!**


	13. in which arthur compares two treasures

**So, what'd you think of the Armione kiss? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original two series.**

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_Stupid._

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

Those were the words running through Arthur's head, as he paced around his chambers. His shoes tapping on the stone echoed in his head, making it ache. Fisting his hair and wrapping it around his finger's tightly probably wasn't helping. He colapsed on his bed, thoughts running through his mind steadily, changing at random seconds, flashing behind his eyes like a dream. The softness of Hermione's hands, the flash of caramel brown eyes, the twirl of her curls when he spun her, the sharpness of her coloar bone that was exposed by her dress.

The softness of her lips, he could almost taste them.

and then, he'd remembered everything. Remembered who he was, who she was, where they were and just _what _was about to happen. He had a bad habit of forgetting everything when she was around, and that was dangerous.

and then there was his father, who definately wouldn't comprehend the fact that the crown Prince of Camelot could be in love with a servant.

Wait, was he in love with her?

It's not like he had a good image of love, his mother had loved his father and she was dead. His father was always strong, and barely mentioned love to Arthur. He could count on one hand the number of times his father had told him he loved him. Love was a foreign object to him, like the ring his father gave his mother in the days of their courting. He remembered it well, golden and glinting and just out of reach of his tiny, child fingers.

Hermione was just like that. Golden, glinting, beautiful, out of reach and he stood on tip-toes, limbs aching he was stretching so far, but it - she - was still out of reach.

and he'd deluded himself into thinking he could hold her.

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**hate me yet?**


	14. in which hermione lays down her cards

**This chapter is dedicated to NorthernLights25 and LeonaMasha who have stayed with the story and reviewed almost every chapter. To Emma Winslow, who inspired my love of Armione with her story 'Back in Time'. To Bradley James for being so beautiful and to my mother, for buying me Mcdonalds while I'm sitting in my pajama's with a cold writing this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything original. Just the armione plot. And Arthur. Don't say anything. Let me live in my own world. **

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The weeks following what Hermione called 'the almost kiss' were awkward and embarassing. She saw more of Arthur now than she saw of him before, or maybe that was just her being hyper aware of him. It seemed like she had a sixth sense when it came to Arthur, she knew he'd be coming around the corner, and saw all the little movements she'd missed before.

She saw how he tightened his grip on his sword when the Knights weren't paying any attention or how he'd glance out the windows as his father spoke, as if longing to be outside in the sunshine.

_Maybe, _she thought, _I'm so aware of him because I know how he moves up close and personal, I know how it feels to be in those arms, the feel of broad shoulders underneath my fingertips. The different shades of blue in his eyes, tilt of his mouth, the puff of his breath ... _

_stop. no need to torture yourself. _

But she couldn't help thinking about it, Was it something she'd done? Did he not feel the same as she did? Had she misinterupted his actions and he didn't feel for her at all? At least, not romantically? She used to scowl at Lavender and Parvarti when they'd moan and ball over heartache from boys they barely knew rejecting them and look at her now. Three months here, and she'd fallen in love with a literal in-the-flesh Prince Charming.

It was days like these that she really missed home, missed Ginny and Ron and Harry and Luna and Mrs. Weasley and her parents and Professor McGonagall. She was hit with a sudden bout of homesickness so strong she felt dizzy, she'd even settle for seeing Draco Malfoy right now.

She especially missed Ginny and her all-knowingness of a boys mind. Maybe she'd be able to decipher Arthur's feelings because Hermione was seriously out of her league when it came to these sorts of things. Hell, she didn't even know that Viktor had fancied her until he'd come right out and asked her to the ball.

But speaking with Arthur was easier said than done. She'd stopped asking Merlin where he was, she was tired of seeing the pitying looks he sent her while he lied for Arthur. He was always out training, with his father, taking a bath, 'I don't know', talking with Leon, with Morgana.

It was awfully embarassing.

She'd given up a month later, tired of seeking him out and exhausted from crying. It was late at night and Lady Morgana's birthday was in a few days, so she was putting the finishing touches on the pastries, chopping fruit to set atop the sweet treats. Her hair was in braid, damp with sweat because of the heat of the kitchen. She spent most of her time away from Gaius and Merlin, tired of them dancing around Arthur's name, tip-toeing around her like she might snap. How did Merlin even know? Arthur must have told him, or he'd guessed, or even worse - he'd seen it. And Merlin, being Merlin, shared with Gaius.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice Cook standing in the doorway, a bag of potatoes in each hand. "Hello Hermione," She stated in a thick accent that Hermione still couldn't place. "Almost through?"

"Almost," She replied, eyes on her chopping.

"They're fickle things, aren't they?" Cook asked randomly, heaving the potatoes onto the counter and cracking her knuckes.

Confused, Hermione stopped chopping and looked up into Cooks hard grey eyes. "Strawberries?" She asked, confused.

"Feelings," When Hermione flushed, Cook smirked. "I was young once. Chopping does wonders for an aching heart." When Hermione stayed silent, Cook smiled again.

"Goodnight Hermione," She smiled and left, heavy shoes clopping on the floor. Hermione waited until she couldn't hear the footsteps anymore to keep chopping. Just as she was cleaning up, the knife slipped, and she leaped back - attempting to save her already cut-up fingers. The knife clattered to the floor, and she cursed, bending down to retrieve it.

She was still crouching when she heard footsteps again. If she'd been paying any attention, she'd have realized that they were much to light and agile to belong to the aging woman. "What'd you-" When she peaked over the countertop and caught sight of Arthur, standing barefoot and in his night clothes she fell silent.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she ignored it. This was a boy who'd made her cry. Who got her hopes up and then spit on her heart and kicked it to the curb.

And spit on it again.

So, throwing the knife into the sink, and swept past Arthur in the most dignified manor she could manage. "Sire, goodn-"

Unfortunately things never seemed to go Hermione's way. She stumbled on the edge of a rug, too caught up in her performance to notice the flipped up corner and almost face planted. Arthur reached forwards, meaning to catch her but she curved her body away from his touch, catching herself on the edge of the counter.

Ignoring the pain in her wrist, she stood to her full height, which wasn't much compared to Arthur. Arthur stared at her, eyes sad but lips twitching into a small, beautiful smile.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered, leaning on the counter, hand almost touching hers, his voice sounding so loud in the stillness of the kitchen.

Maybe the question took her off guard, or she was emotional, or defensive, or it was the lack of rest, or the fact that she was just so tired of playing games with boys she felt for, dancing a complicated dance that she rarely ever won. She reached out, and placed her hand on his large, sturdy palm and whispered back,

"Everything."

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**end. review?**


	15. in which hermione eats cake

**Here we are, sorry for the delay, life just got in the way. I know it's extremely short, and not at all what you probably expected, but hey, Arthur isn't exactly an easy man to love is he? Plus, this is setting things up for what I have planned next. Plus, Hermione loved Ron for seven years, and was difficult the whole way through – apparently love wasn't easy for her either.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original series.**

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Whatever Hermione expected after she'd made that giant claim, it definitely wasn't this. She definitely didn't think Arthur would be angry at her. His words echoed in her mind like a popular pop song she couldn't quite get rid of.

"Don't! I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry! But nothing can ever happen between us! Nothing, and to pretend otherwise would hurt too much – for me and for you."

_Whoever said falling in love was easy was delusional_, she thinks bitterly. Gaius has made some sort of cake-type thing for Merlin and she stuffs her face with the piece left out for her.

She didn't fall in love, no, she tumbled down a hill made of cactus', stumbled through a maze of hurt and insecurity and then was hit in the face with a door. She was dragged through a valley of nails and pushed through the scariest, most terrifying portal she'd ever known of called "rejection".

Silently lying on her cot, listening to Gaius' snores, and thinking of Arthur, pressure built behind her eyes. She rubbed them with the heel of her hand until it was painful, determined not to cry. The skin around her mouth felt too tight and her breaths were quiet but shaky. Her heart felt like it was a mini boxer-champion, trying to punch its way out of her chest and escape, possibly move in to some other girl who was good enough to be loved by Arthur. Her grip unconsciously tightened and she realized a second too late that she was still holding the remains of her cake.

Looking down at her unlady-like handful of squished cake, she scowled fiercely at it, jaw tight.

Nothing takes the taste out of cake quite like the immortal sting of rejection.

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**don't kill me ... please?**

**btw, like the new chapter titles? I'm doing this from now on, I went back and changed them all.**

**scandolous, yes?**


	16. in which hermione curses merlin

**Here we are people! I know lots of people basically died last chapter, but please, get over it, this could .. possibly ... have a happy ending. I don't want to give too much away.**

**Anways, here we go,**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the two series.**

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Hermione wishes the ground would just open up and swallow her whole.

Merlin had obviously noticed something was wrong between the two, and decided to try and help in his not-so-helpful manner. So here she was, watching Arthur practice and handing him the correct weapon at the correct time, careful not to let there finger's touch. Arthur didn't speak to her, he just grumbled a 'thank you' and kept practicing.

But Hermione? She had nothing to do but what? Watch the man she was pretty sure she was in love with practice, swinging a sword around all afternoon and yelling at other sweaty men?

Joy.

But the real pain was seeing Arthur after so much time actively avoiding him. This was worse than it had been with Ron. A million times with Viktor. With Viktor, there was the keen sense of loss for a day or two, the childish longing for him when he returned to Durmstrang. Then came Cormac, with his awful obsession (where do you think she got her dodging skills from) and then lastly in the saga of short-Hermione-relationships, came Ronald Weasley. At least with him, they`d tried, and it hadn`t worked out as she'd hoped, but at least they'd tried.

Hermione winced a little, thinking of home, of Harry and Ron and George and Molly and Teddy and Ginny. The brunette smiled a little, thinking of her friends. She wished for Ginny now, more than she ever did in the past, more than she did in the confusing start of her feelings for Arthur. She needed to fold herself around someone and cry - but who was here for that? Gwen? She certainly didn't know her well enough for that. Gaius? Yes, that'd be a blast. Merlin? Awkward in a million shades .. he'd probably open his uncontrollable mouth and ask Arthur something that would ultimately end up embarassing her.

Arthur.

He was the worst on her list. Much worse than Cormac or Viktor or Ronald. He was the stinging slap of rejection, seeming to leave a handprint on her cheek that just wouldn't vanish. He lingered, longer than the other's ever had, buzzed around her head like a pesky fly that she _maybe-kinda-sorta-perhaps _didn't want to get rid of.

_maybe-kinda-sorta_

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**Sorry to anyone who was expecting a Dear John-esque reunion. Not happening now. I'll admit this was sort of a filler chapter. But shall I divulge? Give you a teensy hint?**

**One word:**

**JEALOUSY**

***cackling* and with that, my pretties, I leave you. Review/follow/fave please!**


	17. in which there is a cuddly moment

**Here we are, the newest chapter and I'm about to break 50 reviews on this baby! I'm so excited! WOOHOOOO. Also, it's my birthday! So I'm doubly excited, and I got one of those Pandora charm bracelets from my parents! WOOHOO times three. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original series's (what the hell is plural for series? series's series')**

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Arthur is pacing through his chambers, trying to ignore Merlin's curious eyes from where he's sorting through freshly-polished armour. Arthur rubs his hands together, and Merlin's brows drawn together, not used to seeing Arthur behave like this. What had happened? His father? Some other evil soceror he'd have to stop with magic and let Arthur take all the credit? Not feeling well? What could make him so ... restless?

Sudddenly, a thought occured to Merlin. _Maybe it's something about Hermione?_

"Sire?" Merlin called, drawing the attention of the sighing Prince, who simply glanced at him and kept pacing. Merlin knew this was as close to a response as he was likely to get, so he kept speaking. "Does this perhaps have to do with one bushy-haired, brown eyed maiden?"

Arthur's steps stuttered, and stilled.

_So it is Hermione. _Merlin smirked, but it softened when Arthur glanced at the floor and sat heavily on the chair, forcing it back with his weight a little bit.

"I ... like her. Merlin. I like her." Arthur leaned forwards and looked at Merlin in a way that made Merlin see him as a child, staring up at his mother for guidance. "I have no idea what to do ... what shall I do Merlin?"

"Why are you asking me," Merlin said, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his heart. It was moments like this that cemented the bond of friendship between Arthur. All the times Arthur insulted him, all the times he mocked him and angered him; he knew Arthur needed him just as much as he'd grown to need Arthur.

"Because your my friend, and because I really need someone who only cares about my happiness to tell me what to do. Not about her status and mine. Not about what the public would think, or what my father would do. You want me to be happy ... don't you?" Arthur stared at Merlin intensely and Merlin swallowed.

"Of course, Arthur," Merlin said and sat down in front of Arthur, staring his straight in the face. He looked at Arthur and wondered what to say. What the bloody hell was he supposed to say? But then he looked at this man - this man who'd grown from that arrogant boy in the market place to this brave, courageous man who was truly the Once and Future King, who'd unite the lands of Albion, who was his friend, who'd never given up on him and defended him - not caring if the opponent was a bandit or his own father. This boy who was looking to his friend to advise him, just like he'd done this last year. He stared at Arthur and imagined a shining future.

A future where sorcerors lived among non-magic people as neighbours, as friends. One where nobody was killed because of something they'd never asked for, for something out of their control. Where Arthur ruled as a fair and just King, loved by all his subjects with Merlin at his side, his friend and his advisor throughout the years and until his death. One with Hermione standing at his side, a crown placed on top of long curly hair, sitting as if it belonged there, as if it'd always been there, the Once and Future Queen of Camelot, the wife of Arthurr, the mother of his children - a beautiful Queen loved by her subjects, adored by her husband, a dear friend of Merlin's until the day of one of their deaths.

Merlin smiled a long, slow smile that brightened his face and crinkled his eyes.

"I think you should tell her how you feel."

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**Alright? Who was melting at the bromance cuteness?**


	18. in which arthur's life falls apart

**Hello everyone! I can't believe this little fic has had so much of a response! I was honestly not expecting this! Nothing near to this. I expected some favouriting, and maybe around fifteen reviews. This was originally supposed to be about five chapters long, and with a sad ending – but now? Here we are, almost at twenty chapters! So thank you so much, and enjoy!**

**Another thing, I know you were expecting jealousy, but I suddenly had inspiration – coming from seeing the newest Merlin episode. Who else died laughing at Merlin as a woman? – and I had to write it. So there will be jealousy! Just ... later on. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the two original series. **

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Arthur sat alone in the shack, barely seeing anything around him. He could feel the day passing, turning into night. People bustled around him, hands went to grasp his shoulder and stopped before any real contact, as if scared that physical contact would shatter him – like a dried up flower petal. He could tell that Merlin was near; he'd heard his voice a couple times, talking to him and reassuring him. The air was colder it seemed, colder than he ever remembered it being. Then again, maybe it only felt that way to him. The light that had once filtered through the windows was gone, leaving a darkness that was only relieved with candlelight.

How had it come to this? Did the fates hate him? The gods had to hold a grudge to him.

Just yesterday, he'd talked to Merlin. Just yesterday he'd been about to admit his feelings to Hermione. Just yesterday it was a giant celebration. Just yesterday it had been the Samhain feast. Just yesterday he'd passed a note to Hermione (through the usual channel of Merlin) asking her to meet him by the eastern wall after the feast; it was the most private place he could think of. Not to mention it was a moonless night, and the stars were so clear it looked as though you could reach out and grasp one. This had all been just yesterday.

Just yesterday, his father had also been alive.

Just yesterday, he still thought of Morgana as his friend.

Just yesterday, his life wasn't completely in shambles.

But it wasn't yesterday. It was today. Today, he had been driven from his castle, from his own home. His father had been killed, courtesy of Morgana. Morganamorganamorganamorgana . The sorceress. The murderess. The traitor...

His sister.

He'd thought of her in a platonic, almost familiar sort of way before, but now? Now it was different because in all sense of reality, she was his sister. She was of his blood.

His blood had betrayed him. Murdered _their_ father.

To make matters worse, he wasn't the only one with problems. Hermione was stuck in castle, unable to get out in time and unwilling to leave all those left. Merlin had neglected to tell him she'd stayed behind until they were leagues from the castle, knowing full well that Arthur would want to go back for her. Gaius too, had been kept there in the citadel along with Leon and Elyan.

So their band of brave warriors consisted of himself, Gwen, Percival, Gwaine and Merlin.

It pained him more than he ever wanted to admit to know that Hermione was trapped, in danger and it Morgana's clutches. He didn't even begin to think of what was happening to her. He stopped suddenly.

_If Morgana knew about him and Hermione ... no. No. It is not possible that she knows. Nobody but Merlin knows, and even that idiot knows when to keep his mouth shut. _

Hermione would be safe from those suspicions.

At least, that is what he told himself.

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**Here we go – the Armione train is picking up speed. Will it derail? Or simply run straight over Morgana and her minions? **

**A little sneaky peak preview for next chapter.**

"_So brown eyes, talk of the town is that the little Prince is sweet on you," Hermione's insides clenched and she stubbornly kept her gaze with his, refusing to give in. "The question I wish answered, is if you return his feelings, my pet." Cenred reached out three dirty fingers, to slide them down Hermione's cheek._

**Special thanks to:**

**Princessdiana516, smos, NorthernLights25, and LeonaMasha for reviewing last chapter.**

**Later my pretties.**

**MWAHHAHAHAHA.**


	19. in which there are screams

**I have decided on the path this story will take. Be warned – this is probably not what you were expecting. And as for the sneak peak? That'll come a little later. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Merlin belongs to BBC. Hermione and the others belong to JK Rowling.**

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_Oh, you're in my veins  
And I cannot get you out  
Oh, you're all I taste  
At night inside of my mouth  
Oh, you run away  
'Cause I am not what you found  
Oh, you're in my veins  
And I cannot get you out_

_-In My Veins, Andrew Belle_

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Hermione wasn't sure how long she'd been in here. There was no sense of time in the darkness. She wasn't sure how long it'd been since she'd been locked inside this place no light, nothing but the stale taste of terror and the smell of mud and the _dripdripdrip _of those things above her, with no windows to let in the fresh air -

Windows are a curious thing, she thought suddenly, giggling madly at her sudden thought. They look out at the world, allow you a glimpse, yet you cannot climb through them and join the world. They were evil, she decided. A mockery of her captivity, a morsel of hope stretched thin, left dangling outside her barred existence like a sorcerer from a noose. She hated windows, she thought, and yet she yearned for them.

Hatedhatedhatedhatedhatedhat ed. She cackled again, and the sound reverberated off the walls, reminding her of evil, nasty meany-beany women like Bellatrix and Morgana and the queen from Snow white and Narcissa Malfoy and that mean old lady down the road from her childhood home that never gave back any balls that were kicked into her backyard. She curled into herself while she leaned against the walls. She wished she could pull her skin over herself, hide herself, do anything – anythingeverythingsomething except for waiting for someone to come and beat her or curse her or kill her or mock her.

Her fingers _hurt_, she'd picked the skin clear off in some places around her nails, bitten down so short they ached at the slightest pressure. Her voice was crackly from screaming, her lip was spit from crying and her head was aching with thoughts of the prince who hadn't come to save her.

She caught her reflection in a piece of shattered mirror. She looked demonic, she looked insane.

Voices twisted all around her. One's from her former life, ones from now.

_He's not coming. _Her father's voice whispered in her ear. _He's never coming for you._

She cried out at the sound of the familiar voice, twisting her middle in every direction trying to glimpse her father until it hurt too much to continue.

_Well look at her. _Mrs. Weasley's voice replied snidely. _Who'd risk all that to rescue this pathetic thing?_

"I'm not pathetic." Hermione all but whimpered, hating her weakness. She wanted to press her hands over her ears, but she knew that wouldn't work – she'd been trying it for days.

_Not pathetic? Who had to rescue you all those times? _Ron's contributed in a tone Hermione had only heard when he talked of Snape or Malfoy. _You were always the weak one. _

_Harry Potter's bushy haired little know-it-all. _Ginny's voice joined the party. _With teeth to large and value too little._

_Don't forget too little beauty. _Luna's voice sounded wrong using snide, mean words. She sounded evil. _I bet Arthur will never come. He's glad to be rid of you – the tag-a-long servant girl who tidied his chambers and dreamed nonsense of being a Queen._

"I will be his Queen!" Hermione screamed shrilly (thought the thought had never before occurred to the normal, rashional, sane version of herself)

_Who would ever want you? _Sirius Black laughed, his voice startling Hermione into whirling around and losing her balance. It sounded as if he'd been right behind her. She crashed to the ground, landing flat on her back. _Filthy little mudblood._

The voices screamed in laughter, shrill to the point of hurting her ears. Professor McGonagall, George Weasley, Hagrid and Neville howled together in a malicious symphony.

_MUDBLOOD_

_MUDBLOOD_

_MUDBLOOD_

_MUDBLOOD_

MUDBL-

"Hermione!" A soft, warm voice called to her, and she rolled to her side, peering through a tangled knot in the middle of her forehead. There, in front of her, stood two very familiar figures. In long, violet robes made of velvet was Dumbledore, and beside him was Harry – who was as scruffy, messy haired and spectacled as she remembered. "Goodness gracious Ms. Granger! What's happened to you?" Dumbledore asked confusedly. The voices had stopped. The room was so deathly silent that she could hear the bells in on the tassels of his robes jingling as he walked slowly towards her. Harry rushed towards her.

"We came to rescue you," Harry assured her, but neither reached out to help her to her feet. Hermione, so desperate with relief, she crawled towards them, and reached out – overwhelmed for the need of human contact.

And her hand passed right through Harry's leg.

"No!" She wailed, and drew herself away from them, her elbows scraped on the floor as she scrambled away from them. They seemed to grow, stretching and changing and becoming bigger and bigger and bigger.

Or maybe it was her, she thought. Maybe I'm getting smaller and smaller and smaller. Soon I'll be tiny as a thimble. Tiny as a speck of dust. So small that Arthur will never find me.

"_ARTHUR IS NEVER COMING FOR YOU!" _She screamed because it was Merlin's voice snapping at her, fiercely as the frothing jaws of a mad screamed, loudly and long, clawing at the walls, trying to dig her way out, break the walls, snap off her fingers, claw off her skin, bleed her blood right out of body, like a great pig ruby red puddle right here on the floor. She was suddenly tempted to do that. At least then Morgana would have a mess to clean up when she came back for her.

Everyone had appeared in front of her. Merlin in his servan't costume, her mother in her apron, all the Weasley's and their fiery hair, Hagrid in his moleskin coat, Gwen in her purple dress, Gaius in his long red robes, Harry in his rag-tag clothes, the Knights in shining silver chainmail.

Then suddenly, Arthur stood before her, staring down at her with impasse in his eyes and a slant of his mouth.

And without a word he dew Excalibur with a mighty sweep of his arm and stabbed her in right through the chest.

And she screamed like he really had.

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**told you it wasn't what you were expecting.**


	20. in which there is death

**Here's a pseudo-chapter to keep you all on your toes, as well as to keep you rabid wolves off my heels. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the BBC show, or Harry Potter.**

"_I love you and it's getting worse."_

_-Joseph Morris_

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**Fire**

_Fire_

_Fire _

Hermione jolted awake at the sound of a loud scream. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the stone wall that had become so familiar to her. Instead, she was treated to the sight of death. She was in a house, a strangely outdated house. Things looked new to her eyes, but her mind knew to recognize them as old.

None of this held her attention; as it was focused on the dead body lying on the staircase. It was a person in their striped pajamas. From the distance she was, and with the poor lighting, she could make out it was man, with lopsided glasses and messy dark hair. She crept closer to the man, the floor creaking in protest despite her attempts to be silent.

But as soon as she'd gotten close enough to properly see, she immediately wished she hadn't.

Lying there, in a crumpled heap was _James Potter._

Without thinking, Hermione takes off, sprinting up the stairs and down a narrow hallway, skidding into the only room with an open door. There on the floor in front of her, lays Lily Potter – red hair spread out like a pool of blood, fingers stretched out towards a cradle.

_Cradle _was her first thought.

_Harry _was her second.

She turned towards the cradle. There, inside the cradle, lay a dark haired baby that was still fast asleep. She almost cried out in relief, seeing that her best friend was still okay, though she knew he would be. She reached a finger towards the baby, intending to touch him – _godgodgodgod she needed human contact sosososo much _– when she stopped dead, recognizing the symptoms of death. Pale skin. Unmoving. Not making a sound.

She looked to his forehead. It was as blank and unscarred as hers.

Her vision blurred as the bedroom disappeared.

**Fire**

_Fire_

Fire

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**Evil huh? Well, let me know. I can't believe this is the twentieth chapter. Thanks so much guys. **


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